The second installment of Mocking Bird will have an… OC. And not just any OC, either, but a Mary Sue!
Thank you to all the reviewers from the last chapter. The support and kind words are greatly appreciated, and they motivate me. Well, not really… otherwise, this would have been out sooner. D
This chapter may just include: exaggeration, sarcasm, sarcastic glorification of characters, more exaggeration, a Mary Sue, cliché plotline, teen angst, Nobody's having feelings, and much, much more.
Damn right there will be OOCness. I'm writing sarcastically here, after all! Jeez, get with it.
"O my gawd! I hate you! I hate my life!" Lane Whitaker shrieked at her mother, while slamming the door to her dark, depressing room and locking it. Her mother had just taken away her cell phone for no apparent reason; ya know, other than the fact that she got a B+ on her grade card. So totally the end of the world. Lane sighed and flumped down on her bed, sending her beautiful, shoulder-length (but flowing) golden brown hair into the air in shimmering waves, as the light emitted from her flickering ceiling lamp danced off of every strand. Closing her deep azure eyes in sadness, she rolled onto her back.
"Why did you give me such a horrible life, Gawd?! Everyone hates me, nobody likes me--ya know, other than the entire high school student body wanting to be just like me or wanting to get with me… but that's beside the point. I wish I'd never been born!" Lane sat up and began braiding her hair, a nervous habit she'd picked up after her daily beatings from her father when she was but a child. She was now almost eighteen, the perfect age to star in her very own fan fiction. Cough.
Anyways, once she'd braided her hair into cornrows, she heard a "swooshing" noise in her closet. Her large eyes, that turned gold when she was frightened, widened until they were the size of saucers, as she fixed her gaze on the closet. "He-Hello?" Lane asked the closet nervously. There was no answer, other than the perpetual swooshing noise… and not-quite-deep male laughter. Suddenly, the flickering light overhead stopped flickering, or radiating any kind of light for that matter, sending her room into an even darker and more depressing state. She let out a short, high-pitched squeak that would have shattered crystal, and scooted to the headboard of her bed, knees clutched. "G-Get… get away! Just l-leave me alone!" the voluptuous young woman told the closet shakily, while tears streamed down from the corners of her eyes.
More laughter, but this time… a man's voice. "Aw, don't cry. I'm your friend," it taunted in its strangely feminine manner. Then, the doors of the closet burst open and black mist blew out with the wind created by the sudden movement. An impossibly thin, tall, shadowy, hooded (how many more adjectives can I place in a row?) figure seemed to float out of the closet, as if suspended on strings from the ceiling. Motionless, except for it-well, his slow advance on the girl.
Somehow, someway, her eyes widened even further, to the point that they were nearly falling out of her perfectly shaped visage. "Ge-Get away from me! Get back!" she shrieked, in the most Wendy Torrance-like voice she could manage.
A menacing chuckle. "I said not to be afraid," and more laughing, as the 'man' stopped at the foot of the bed. Bending forward to, most likely, peer out of his hood at her, he giggled in his intriguingly girlish manner. "Yes… this is the one specified." He walked around to the side of the bed. Lane was petrified with fear, so she didn't move away even when he was standing two feet from where she was sitting on the bed. Reaching out one gloved hand, he grabbed hold of her wrist and began yanking her toward the closet, which was exactly when she chose to respond to his presence in the room, ya know, aside from shouting "Get away!" and the like.
Lane twisted and thrashed about, trying to free herself from the dark man's grip, but resistance was futile. She planted her feet against the ground and pulled back, hoping she'd be able to free herself, but he just laughed and tugged her along, closer to the closet. Realizing that struggling wouldn't help anything, as they inched closer and closer to… the closet, she dropped to the floor and began crying and screaming. "NoooooOOOooo! Please! Noooo, noo! I don't wanna be… RAPED!!!!"
At that point he stopped in his tracks, threw his head back, and laughed uncontrollably. In fact, he was laughing so hard that he bent forward a little, due to his stomach hurting, and needed to support himself using a dresser that was conveniently placed at his left. It held all of Lane's cheerleading, academy, basketball, volleyball, any other kind of ball, and academic awards and trophies on its surface. Of course, it wasn't nearly large enough to hold them all, so the rest she stored in several boxes under her bed. Anyways, the hooded man turned his head and looked down at the crying girl. "O, please, kid. If I wanted anything like that from you, what would happen would be nothing near the definition of rape," he replied, with more laughter following. Then, with a few final quick tugs and some kicks to the girl's arms (when she latched onto things), the man pulled her into the black portal in her closet, leaving no trace of Lane Whitaker behind… aside from some tear-stained pillowcases and her numerous trophies.
X
Upon entering the dark portal in her closet, Lane blacked out… or she thought she did, at least. For, from that point until when she "woke up", all that she could remember was darkness and being carried.
X
When she did wake up, or what she considered being awake, Lane found herself on a deep red couch, in the center of a rather large room of atrociously matched reds and cream carpeting. She lifted her head off the arm and looked around; there was no one in sight. Instead of getting up and leaving right away, she rested her head on the couch, again, and waited a few minutes, while humming loudly and then singing some horrid pop song, checking to see if anyone would come. When no one did, she got up off the couch and walked to the door. Quietly, she opened it and peered outside the door.
On either side was the extension of a rather long hallway, each end turning abruptly into a new hallway. Walking towards the right, the hallway turned right in… well, a right angle, and the left turned left in, strangely, a right angle. She didn't know which way she should go, so she played eenie-meenie-miney-moe and ended up going to her left.
The hall was silent as she walked along, her new, in-style, high-top, classic black Converse plopping against the white marble floor as she went. Each "plop" echoed just the tiniest bit in the completely marble hall. The silence began to freak her out, so she stopped next to a large window of clouded glass. Through the window she could tell it was night outside, even if there was a white mist on the glass. She sighed… and that echoed too. The reverberation of the sigh on the walls, floor, and ceiling shocked her into a state of isolation and loneliness. Where were the other people? The thought of everyone else being gone and she being completely alone scared her even more, and she got that feeling of being watched. You know, the one you get when watching a horror movie all alone.
Looking over her shoulder to make sure no one really was watching her, Lane began to walk again. At first slowly, and then she was running. Back in high school, by the way, she was the best runner on the cross country team, so she made it down that hallway pretty damn fast. As she was rounding the corner, Lane looked over her shoulder again, and when she looked back her she saw a black, hooded figure and then her face was met with black leather and a very toned, sexy man-chest.
"Holy fu--" was all that he got out before she hit and they toppled to the floor.
The way that they landed didn't exactly look like they had only run into each other. It looked just a tad bit cliché, too. Just a tad bit.
Lane lay with her torso between the man of black leathery-goodness's legs, face laying against his, as stated prior, toned, sexy man-chest. She lifted her top half up, arms on either side of his body and looked at him. He was just hoisting himself up a little, so as to get a good look at what just happened. The hood he had been wearing was thrown back from his head, displaying a shock of long, spikey red hair. His face was thin with sharp edges on his chin and cheekbones, and he wore eyeliner and had blue, inverted teardrops tattooed under his eyes. The man was strangely attractive to Lane, and he really stimulated her libido. A blush came into her cheeks.
He smiled devilishly, looking at the girl that lay on top of him. "Yeah, kid, you only wish." With a look of disgust, she pushed herself off of the disturbingly feminine, yet oddly sexy man, and sat back, with her legs folded under herself. "Aww… don't go. I was perfectly comfortable where we were… well, maybe I'd be a little more comfortable if we were in my room… but, uh, by all means, come on bac--"
"Ugh! Shut up! You're sooooo distasteful and disgusting," the girl said, even as she tried to fight off the blush that was coloring her cheeks. She stood up. "You could never get a girl in bed with you!" and then she began to walk off.
"O, pleeeeeeeeease! With my toned, sexy man-chest? I could get any girl in bed! And you're just proof of it… I saw the look on your face when you were on top of me," the man said, smirking, then laughing in a mocking manner. For someone so sexy, he certainly was a prick.
She began walking away in the direction she had come from, and then stopped and turned around to reply to his comment. "Yeah, right! You're just some dirty old pedophile. Guh-ross-uhhh!"
Shocked, the mysterious man just stared at her with a wide-eyed expression for a little less than half a minute, and she just stared back, wondering why he was staring at her. Maybe it was because he just realized that he loved her? She could see the goodness behind that cold, perverse front of his! Then he broke the silence and destroyed her daydream. "Pardon me… but, uh, did you just turn a single-syllable word into a three-syllable word?"
"…I might have," she replied, seething with anger and rage and fury and outrage and all those other words that mean simply mean "mad". With that, she turned on her heel and began walking down the hallway. Unbeknownst to her, however, he had disappeared from where he was. Suddenly, a dark portal, swirling with black and purple energy? mist? pudding? opened ten feet from where she was and the same man walked out. Her eyes went wide with surprise and turned purple, because they did that when she was incredibly surprised. "B-But… you were ju-just…?"
Again, he smiled. "Going my way?" he asked, then grabbed her wrist tightly and dragged her to the room she was held in before and shoved her through the door. "Do not leave without my consent. If you do, bad things will happen." Her eyes widened into fearful, golden saucers again. "And, no! I'm not going to rape you, because I know that's what you're thinking. Jeez, some kids never stop thinking about sex."
Stomping away from him, fists clenched, Lane flumped down on the couch she was on before, crossed her arms, and stared at nothing in particular. "O, yeah… like you have any room to talk… Dirty pedophile…" she mumbled to herself angrily.
"Riiiiiiight, because in life, I was hardly five years older than yourself… and you're almost eighteen. Shut up, don't make noise, and don't leave. Not that you'll be able to, though, the door is locked this time." With one last smirk and a wink, he opened one of his dark portal-thingies and left.
After a few moments of silence, she let out a very (sexually?) frustrated sigh and kicked the backs of her feet against the couch. "That bastard! What the Hell am I supposed to do for who knows how long?" In her rage, Lane Whitaker screamed. It was so high-pitched and irritating, that the screen of the television that the couch was facing cracked, and so did the glass top of the coffee table that was between the couch and the telly. Upon seeing the destruction she had caused, Lane smiled evilly. "That's right, you dirty old man… that's what you get for imprisoning me!" And then she wept tears of sadness, because I guess that's what helpless female characters are supposed to do when locked up.
X
Lane cried and screamed and kicked the couch for around an hour before anyone came. And when someone did come, it was a young, blonde man, also wearing a black leather coat, with a rather odd hairstyle. It looked like a cross between a mohawk and a mullet. A mul-hawk? He arrived by coming through a dark portal, like the feminine, perverted guy with the toned, sexy man-chest did.
"What are you crying about?" he asked with great concern.
When she heard the semi-nasally voice of the young man, Lane looked up, surprised… so her eyes were purple. Her luscious locks of golden brown hair fell in front of her tear-stained face, giving her the appearance of any other angst-filled teenage girl that couldn't get a date to prom. Not that Lane would have trouble getting a date to prom, though. "Who… (sniff) who are you?" she asked him in the mopiest, saddest voice she could muster.
The boy shrugged nonchalantly and smiled a goofy smile. "No one important. What is important, though," he began and sat on the end of the couch, opposite her, "is why you're crying. Why? You can tell me, I care. Even though, technically, I'm not supposed to have feelings because I'm just the shell of my former self, but that's beside the point."
Smiling a little from the comfort, and the fact that she didn't understand what he meant by the last sentence at all, she began to speak. "O, you know… Nothing important. It's just that some red-haired, creepy, sexy, girly guy kidnapped me from my abusive home, which sounds like a vacation, but it's really not. No way. He kept making all these sexual comments to me and being a real jerk. I think he's a pedophile."
With that, the boy burst out laughing in a rather nasally manner. "Omigosh, that red-haired, creepy, sexy, girly guy has gotta be Axel. No one else in the Organization fits that description. He must really like you if he's already making sexual comments," he said, as if they were having some kind of messed up form of 'girl-time' in a parallel universe.
"WTF? Yeahhhhhhh, that really shows that he likes me. Jeez, the guys at school just gave me candy. I mean, I always threw it away, thoughcouldn't let my perfect body get fat, ya know, otherwise I wouldn't fit into my size one prom dress."
"Not that you'll have to worry about that now, though!" The blonde guy and Lane looked towards the door, where a very cocky looking "Axel" stood. "Demyx! Get the Hell outta my room," he ordered, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder towards the door to make his point clearer.
"But… but, she's such a nice girl! Why do I have to go? Why does sh--" Demyx began whining, but was cut off.
"Shut up, Demyx. You know that if we let her live, she'll find him and they will eventually de--"
"Yeah… I know… But, it's not fair. It's not as if we chose this life for ourselves. I mean, really, if you had the choice, would you…" the blonde began, but then stopped.
"Umm, yeah, hi! Right here! What are you guys talking about? Who is this 'him' guy that you mentioned?" came the beautiful sound of Lane's voice, drifting from the far corner of the tear-soaked sofa she and Demyx were sitting on. The two men turned to stare at her, eyes wide with fear, and then the one known as Demyx looked back to Axel.
"I guess you're right, Axel… I'm sorry Lane, but I gotta go. I have my, um, duties. See you later…" but the last part came out as more of a sad, sad question than a statement, despite it lacking a question mark. A black portal opened beneath the blonde and he sunk through the couch to wherever it was that he was going. Lane looked at the place where Demyx had just been sitting, and tears sprung into her eyes. Her new friend disappeared as quickly as he had come into her life.
Her eyes quickly shifted to the man of black leathery-goodness, a.k.a. Axel. Being alone with him made her head spin, but it also made her want to cry; what did he mean by if she found 'him' she would de…? What was he trying to say before Demyx had cut him off? He moved toward the couch where she sat. Remembering the night before, or whenever it was when he first kidnapped her, she scooted over all the way into her corner of the couch and whined a little.
"What? Do you think I'm going to rape you?" he asked and then cackled. She looked up at him with golden eyes, filled with fear. "Again, please." Axel rolled his eyes. "Get up, you have a date that you won't want to miss."
"I hope to Gawd it's not with you, I might get raped!" she retorted, standing up and glaring at him. "I'd hate to get raped by an old man."
"Why is it, that, in RPGs anyone over twenty years old is considered an old man? I'm only twenty-three, physically! Who the Hell wrote these rules?!" he asked in outrage, throwing his hands into the air.
Lane shrugged. "Wut teh fuh is an RPG?" This earned her a glare from Axel, and he grabbed at her wrist with his spindly fingers. "Don't touch me, dirty old man skank! Ahhhh! RAAAAAAAAPE!!!!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs, causing him to slap her, leaving a large red mark on her perfect, clear, milky skin. Really, who doesn't want to smack a Mary Sue?
"Don't scream, you waste of sperm. Do you really want to bring Saïx up here?" The clueless expression on her hurt face reminded him that it wasn't Demyx he was yelling at, it was… some kid that he was strangely attracted to? Because Mary Sues are just so damn sexy, so everyone with even an ounce of testosterone pumping through their veins must love them. "Forget that. Just come on," he said impatiently and opened a portal. As he was about to walk through, she, being the domineering little bitch she was, pushed him out of the way and walked through. His shock lasted only a few moments. "Holy shit… I think I'm in love! Xemnas must have been lying about Nobodies not having hearts and not being able to feel! That bastard!" he said to Nobody in particular, and then walked through the portal himself.
Well… that was odd. I didn't like it much… because, how can you really be sarcastic about Mary Sues when they're all so… pre-exaggerated? It's too hard for me. I even tried reading up on how to make a really bad Mary Sue, but how can anyone with any working brain cells read that crap?
Yes, there will be two parts to this specific part of Mocking Bird, because it's cool like that. No, it wasn't too funny, either. But, hey, I've got other things to worry about… so yeah. I hope it was enjoyed at least a little bit. :D
Man... those comments about Axel's "toned, sexy man-chest" are the only things that kept me writing this. I don't know why, but that made me laugh to no end.
I only wish I had a darkness portal in my closet.
I command you to review me, you bitches! Or, ya know, don't?
